


Camera-Shy

by isquinnabel



Category: Baby-Sitters Club - Ann M. Martin, Baby-Sitters Little Sister - Ann M. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-28
Updated: 2012-11-28
Packaged: 2017-11-19 18:12:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/576196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isquinnabel/pseuds/isquinnabel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Karen’s universe crumbles around her as she chances upon a hint of the Porters’ true nature.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Camera-Shy

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Lucida for the premise of this fic (prompted by her in an AU-fic-meme - Eeee, thank you for getting me to finally write something!). Thanks to OzQueen for betaing.

To be perfectly honest, Karen Brewer has never really believed that the Porters are witches.

On the other hand, she’s never _not_ believed it either.

She’s been obsessing about this for hours, but she still can’t articulate exactly what she used to think. She can’t even remember what she thought as recently as this morning, before she got her film developed. All she knows is that she never outgrew her hyperactive imagination. She’s always been one to cling to familiar habits, and her beloved childhood fantasies are like another home. She’s seventeen years old and has never managed to let them go. _Mrs Porter’s family are a coven of witches_ is one of her oldest games. 

No, games is the wrong word. It sounds too trivial. She really believed they were true, at one time. At least, she sort of did. Maybe not. Did she? “ _Dammit_ ,” she hisses. Why can’t she work it out?

Whatever the hell she really believed, the important thing was that she had fun. Even when she pushed it too far and scared other kids, and scared herself even more, she loved it. She was addicted to the limitless possibilities these stories opened to her. Anything could be true, anything at all. A vivid imagination has a certain power, and it’s a power she learned to wield at a very young age. She had been granted the ability to pick and choose what was true and what wasn’t. “Mrs Porter is an eccentric old lady who likes gardening”? Boring. “Mrs Porter and her family are witches who can control anything and everything that happens in this neighborhood”? Amazing. Easiest decision ever.

This, however, changes everything. 

For as long as Karen has known her, Druscilla Porter has always been wary of photos. Karen could never understand this, but she never pushed it either. Most of the girls in her grade became suddenly camera-shy (or at least pretended to be) in about middle school, so it wasn’t all that unusual. Plus, it’s kind of convenient to have someone always willing to be stuck behind the camera. 

So, when Karen brought her brand-new camera to school last week, it just seemed natural when the majority of the film was used up by Dru. Karen only took a handful of sneaky candids: one of Nancy and Tammy, staring at something out of frame; a shot of Hannah in between facial expressions; one of Nancy, gesturing wildly at thin air; and one of no-one. Just a shot of plain brick wall.

If it was only that first photo, maybe she could just shrug it off. And, hell, maybe that one really is fine. Perhaps Dru truly is just out of frame. It’s very likely that she’s only missing because of something as mundane as poor photography.

The one that was supposed to be Dru and Nancy? That one is much harder to explain. Harder, but not impossible. So what if Nancy is at the far left of the frame, facing the right, talking to an enormous blank space? Yes, it looks weird. It looks _really_ weird. And Karen is so sure that Dru was right up in Nancy’s face at the time.

Does that really mean anything, though? Her memory has never been perfect. It could be nothing. Nothing at all.

The real kicker is the photo of the wall.

She remembers taking this photo so vividly. Dru was sitting on the floor outside Chem Lab. She was wearing lime green that day, and looked so bright against the rough brown of the bricks. It suddenly hit Karen how strange it was that she’s known Dru for ten years but has never had a single picture of her. So, without thinking, she snapped a quick photo. 

Dad had told her not to take candids, especially of people who don’t like having their photo taken. He’d warned her. He’d said it was rude, and that people should always know when they’re being photographed. He’d said that she had to learn to be more respectful.

Maybe this is her punishment for not listening.

She clenches her toes. She bites her thumbnail. _It’s gone_ , she thinks. Whatever it was that she used to think is gone. No matter how hard she tries, she can’t give any life to her old, comfortable fantasies. It doesn’t make any sense; her whole childhood has been a drumroll for a revelation like this, but all it’s done is leave her pale and shaking, knees drawn up tightly to her chest.

“I don’t get to choose anymore,” she whispers.

Her imagination isn’t welcome here. Obviously, there’s nothing physically stopping her from building a story around these photos. She could weave a spine-chilling tale about wicked faeries, or about mysteriously-aging vampires. She could decide to make up something about homeless tree-guardians who came to Stoneybrook in search of new land to protect. The possibilities are just as limitless as ever.

Except they won’t be true. The difference between today and yesterday is that is that now she knows something really is happening. _Something_ about Druscilla and Mrs Porter is true.

She just has no idea what it is.

She crosses her room with a sudden bound and thrusts the photos into the depths of her closet, slamming the door on them. She sinks to the floor, eyes closed, waiting for her world to re-align.


End file.
